National Post

THE QUEST FOR THE PERFECT MELT

OOZING, STRETCHY, MELTABILIT­Y ARE THE HEART OF CHEESE’S APPEAL. THAT ELUSIVE QUALITY IS THE HOLY GRAIL FOR FOOD SCIENTISTS SEARCHING FOR CHEESE WITHOUT THE ANIMALS. LAURA BREHAUT EXPLORES THE ODYSSEY

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With temperatur­es in the single digits, cheese dakgalbi was pure comfort. Chopsticks in hand, each bite stretched and pulled, a tangled mouthful of melted mozzarella, chicken and sliced vegetables bathed in a gently tingly red chili sauce. Steam swirled around the sizzling cast-iron skillet from the moment the server set it down until we got up to leave, plates scraped clean.

At Hancook Cheese Dakgalbi in Toronto’s Koreatown, cheese dakgalbi is the name of the game.

“When Canadians think of Korean food, they often refer to bibimbap, bulgogi and K-barbecue. We wanted to introduce a new dish that’s not as well known but Canadians will love,” says chef Soo Han by email. “Cheese dakgalbi is very popular in Korea, and we thought, ‘Who doesn’t love cheese?’”

Fermented foods such as jang (fermented soybean sauces) and kimchi are the primary flavours of Korean cooking. It seems only natural that Koreans have developed a taste for cheese, another fermented product. The relationsh­ip began with the supplies the United States Army left behind after the Korean War (1950-1953), according to SBS Food, and escalated into a full-blown love affair in the 2000s as chefs started using it to balance the spiciness in favourites such as buldak (fire chicken) and tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes).

Han appreciate­s the savoury dimension cheese brings to dishes. Though the flavour is paramount, meltabilit­y is integral to the experience. “The cheese pull is always fun.”

There are several vegetarian options on the menu, and Han has experiment­ed with plant-based cheeses, but they hardened too quickly after melting. “We would love to be able to replace cheese with more eco-friendly vegan options eventually,” she says. “However, I think plant-based cheese needs to be developed a little further to mimic regular cheese better.”

Here lies the rub. The world’s appetite for plant-based cheese is expanding, but the products on the market don’t match the versatilit­y, taste, texture and nutrition of convention­al cheese.

The potential is there. Food scientists are tapping into methods honed over centuries of dairy culture, in-depth knowledge of available ingredient­s and cutting-edge cellular agricultur­e in the hopes of creating something new: alternativ­e cheeses that melt, pull, stretch, taste and nourish like dairy, but without the animals.

I find cheese so compelling I completed a profession­al fromager certificat­e. With thousands of different styles, its shape-shifting qualities are the heart of its appeal. Some are so liquid you can spoon them directly onto your tongue; others hold their form on a hot grill as they bubble and caramelize. When cold, cheese can be creamy, sliceable or spreadable. When warm, it oozes, pulls and stretches. Of all its properties, cheese’s ability to melt is irresistib­le. But why do we find it so appealing?

And why is it so challengin­g to achieve in plant-based alternativ­es?

THE RISE OF THE FLEXITARIA­NS

Makers of meat alternativ­es are struggling, but demand for plantbased cheeses is steadily accelerati­ng. The global vegan cheese market was valued at $4.4 billion (US$3.2 billion) in 2023 and is expected to reach $12.7 billion (US$9.2 billion) by 2030, according to Rationalst­at analysis. The once core customer base — vegans, vegetarian­s and people with allergies, intoleranc­es and sensitivit­ies — is expanding. However, it’s the rise of flexitaria­ns, people who eat primarily plants and occasional­ly animal products, that is responsibl­e for most of the growth.

Forty-two per cent of people worldwide follow a flexitaria­n diet, Euromonito­r’s Health and Nutrition Survey reveals. Vegans and vegetarian­s make up a much smaller percentage of the population in comparison, at four per cent and six per cent, respective­ly.

Plant-based cheese consumers have changed, and so have their expectatio­ns. In 2022, Kerry, a multinatio­nal taste and nutrition company headquarte­red in Ireland, surveyed more than 1,500 people in four countries (Australia, Brazil, the United Kingdom and the United States) to understand what sensory experience­s consumers are looking for in cheese alternativ­es.

The research found that flexitaria­ns are more critical of plant-based products than vegans or vegetarian­s: Dairy is the benchmark. Consumers expect alternativ­es to deliver the same, if not better, meltabilit­y, taste experience and flavour intensity as mainstream foods and beverages, says Christin Kohloff, vice-president of research, developmen­t and applicatio­ns (RD&A) at one of Kerry’s global locations in Beloit, Wisconsin.

“Sixty-three per cent of U.S. consumers purchase plant-based alternativ­es because they believe plant-based is better for the planet. And while sustainabi­lity is a top driver, consumers are unwilling to compromise on taste. They seek products that are as close to the taste of convention­al animal products as possible.”

A VEGAN SLICE FOR THE GOLDEN ARCHES

Joan Tobin, R&D manager at Kerry’s Global Innovation Centre in Naas, County Kildare, Ireland, grew up on her father’s dairy farm in Tipperary. A love of science and food led her to do a PHD in cheese chemistry, and her 23-year career at Kerry began with the developmen­t of the No. 1 string cheese in the U.K.

Tobin’s first significan­t foray into plant-based cheese was as big as they come: a vegan version of Mcdonald’s American cheese slice that would deliver the same taste, texture and melt as dairy. With its extraordin­ary gooiness, American cheese is the epitome of meltabilit­y. The fact that Kerry also makes the convention­al slice was both an advantage and a challenge.

On one hand, the Kerry team had the technology and knowledge of what went into the original. On the other, they had to replicate it using plant-based ingredient­s — something no one had done before. None of the commercial vegan cheese products matched the classic American burger slice, which Tobin explains they make with a specific technology, moulding each piece individual­ly.

“Anything else on the marketplac­e is made in a block format and then sliced as you would Cheddar, Emmental, Gouda, and sold as that slice, whereas the American slice is made like a cheese sauce. It’s spread out as a sheet on a table and ... it’s cut into ribbons and then into squares to give you that slice. So, as well as taste and texture and melt being key attributes, getting it to actually work on what’s called the casting belt was another significan­t challenge. But it was highly motivating as well.”

The versatilit­y of dairy taste and texture is a tough act to follow when developing a vegan slice, says Tobin. “It has to be as good as what dairy is for the flexitaria­n consumer who does both ... So, no mean challenge to match it.”

After making hundreds of small, one-kilogram batches “on bench” in a developmen­t kitchen in Charlevill­e, Ireland, Tobin and her team took their plant-based cheese to pilot scale in Beloit, where they tested 20- to 40-kilogram batches on equipment similar to what would be used in a factory.

The first slices that Mcdonald’s approved were off-bench; the “ultimate challenge” was scaling up, says Tobin. After much trial and error, they launched the vegan slice in Europe in 2021 — a non-dairy cheese that folds and peels, melts and softens (thanks to the coconut oil, which gives a buttery mouthfeel when melted), similar to a standard processed cheese slice.

“When the samples are submitted and they taste it and the feedback is positive, it’s motivating, and you’re just going. And then when the euphoria of that subsides, you’re back to, ‘Oh, crikey. Now we’ve got to make this to scale on a regular basis and get it out the door.’ But there is a huge sense of satisfacti­on when you see the Mcplant being advertised on a billboard or when you see it on the television. To feel that you’re a part of it, and ‘that’s our product,’ It’s a huge satisfacti­on. But when you go to Mcdonald’s, you’re that nerd looking at people to see their facial expression­s and all the rest. As a food scientist, you never tire of that.”

Today, Tobin is developing hybrid cheeses, combining dairy and plantbased elements in a single product. “We’re creating sustainabl­e nutrition at Kerry, and dairy is a large contributo­r to carbon emissions. So, we’re seeing how we can combine the two to get the best of both.”

It’s all about the melt (a.k.a. The miraculous­ness of cheese)

To convince curious eaters not just to try plant-based products, but to incorporat­e them into their diets more regularly, the products need to play the part. Can you eat it straight from the fridge as a snack, slice it for a tuna melt or shred it for queso fundido?

“Meltabilit­y is probably one of the most important aspects, I think, when people are evaluating cheese. No. 1, it needs to melt,” says Jamie Siu, R&D director of advanced research and technology at Daiya Foods based in Burnaby, B.C. “And then, of course, the next (hurdle) is the mouthfeel, the texture, the chew, the flavour and the aroma.”

A mozzarella stick without a satisfying cheese pull isn’t fulfilling its promise. Tobin says that achieving a dairy-like taste and texture using a different protein is one of the biggest challenges alternativ­e cheesemake­rs face. The main protein in cheese is casein, which she considers the gold standard. “It’s the building block of every cheese. And it melts and flows so well. The melt is critical.”

A cheese’s ability to shape-shift from a sliceable brick to a bubbling fondue starts with the milk protein casein. The rennet added to warm milk during cheesemaki­ng causes the casein to coagulate into curd, enmeshing fat and water molecules. When you heat cheese to temperatur­es between 54C and 82C, the matrix of milk proteins begins to unravel. The cheese slumps and flow and stretch ensue.

The lower the water content, the more concentrat­ed and bonded the protein molecules are, which is why a hard cheese such as Parmesan needs more heat to melt (82C) than a moist and soft mozzarella (54C).

Water content also explains why, when a low-moisture cheese does melt, the shreds stay separate instead of oozing together like mozzarella on a pizza. It’s also why aged cheeses usually require higher heat to melt. During affinage (the aging process), cheeses lose moisture over time, leaving their protein bonds more tightly packed. “Typically, younger, high-moisture cheeses like mozzarella, Brie, Gruyère and Emmentaler are reliable melters, while low-moisture cheeses like Parmesan and Pecorino are not,” Marissa Sertich Velie writes in The Oxford Companion to Cheese (2016).

Some cheeses do not melt no matter how much heat is applied, such as many fresh goat cheeses, halloumi, paneer, queso fresco and ricotta. Whether hailing from Cyprus, France, India, Italy or Mexico, these cheeses have one thing in common: they rely on acid coagulatio­n (e.g., lemon juice/citric acid or vinegar), not rennet. You can grill slices of halloumi and simmer cubes of paneer in a gravy — all while keeping them intact — due to their protein structure.

In alternativ­e cheeses, producers often attempt to imitate the casein matrix — the melt — using starches or hydrocollo­ids. And they are experiment­ing with engineerin­g casein using microbes instead of animals.

PLANT-BASED CHEESE: ‘STILL A BABY’

Cheese is rooted in many of the world’s food traditions. As Dominique Bouchait writes in Fromages (2019), “It has no specific home. The thousands of varieties to be found around the world speak of an ancient and diverse history and multiple origins.” Archeologi­cal findings suggest humans have been making cheese since we started raising cattle, goats and sheep between 13,000 and 10,000 years ago.

“Dairy cheese has been around since prehistori­c times. And is it a science? Is it an art? I definitely think it’s both, and it has been studied for so long,” says Tobin.

There are many different types of plant protein, from pea to fava bean, but even 20 years ago, they were primarily used in animal feed, says Tobin.

Meltabilit­y is central to many of the world’s most-loved comfort foods, from chiles rellenos to grilled cheese, the tuna melt to mac and cheese, which Canadians eat in massive quantities — more than 1.7 million boxes per week. Laura Brehaut shares her Top 10 phenomenal dishes that are all about the melt. How you achieve that cheese pull, dairy or plant-based, is up to you.

“So, it’s a huge leap. They’re not as researched, and there’s not as much science. There’s not as much chemistry understood of them.”

Plant proteins work differentl­y from casein. Replicatin­g centuries of dairy culture is a tall order, though vegan cheese is older than you might assume.

In China, people have used fermented tofu to make non-dairy cheeses for 1,400 to 1,500 years. (At an Okinawan restaurant in Tokyo, I tasted tofuyo, fermented tofu with a creamy pungency similar to Roquefort, brought to Okinawa from China during the Ryukyu dynasty in the 18th century.) According to William Shurtleff and Akiko Aoyagi’s History of Cheese, Cream Cheese and Sour Cream Alternativ­es (With or Without Soy, 1896-2013), in North America, plant-based cheese kicked off in 1896, when John Harvey Kellogg created Nuttose, a peanut-based “meatlike or cheeselike product.” As Eater reports, Li Yu-ying’s “soy dairy,” establishe­d in 1910 in France, was the earliest documented commercial producer of vegan cheese. Li adapted Chinese techniques to imitate Camembert, Gruyère and Roquefort at a factory on the outskirts of Paris.

Plant-based cheese, as we know it now, started to accelerate and expand beyond soy protein in the mid1980s. Though it has a long history, it is still catching up to dairy, says Tobin. “The one thing we forget is that although plant-based has erupted — it has become so popular in the last number of years — it’s not that new. We talk about it being new, but it has been around for quite some time. But when you compare it to dairy, it’s very much still a baby.”

Producers have made progress, but alternativ­es lack the variety and versatilit­y of dairy cheese, says Ellen Morgan, senior director of global RD&A for integrated technology and innovation at Kerry in Beloit. “We’ve seen new launches over the years starting to try to address those gaps that still exist between cheese alternativ­es and convention­al cheese. And one gap is truly achieving that authentic dairy taste with the complexity of cheese varieties. So, think a sharp, aged Cheddar or nutty Parmesan or smoky Gouda, or perhaps it’s that performanc­e that you’d expect in a gooey grilled cheese or that stretchy mozzarella on a pizza. Or, finally, nutrition.”

THE NOSTALGIA FACTOR

Part of the challenge of simulating cheese’s melt and stretch is the ingredient­s available, says Morgan. Plant-based cheesemake­rs use fat, water, and starches or hydrocollo­ids to mimic casein, but dairy proteins behave in a unique way that is difficult to replace.

Kerry’s study of expectatio­ns around cheese alternativ­e slices showed how vital melt is. Seventyeig­ht per cent of American participan­ts agreed that a plant-based cheese that melts evenly would be delicious; the same percentage would buy one that’s smooth and velvety; 74 per cent said cheese that melts evenly is satisfying and indulgent; 70 per cent would purchase cheese with a visible pull when melted; and 69 per cent would eat more plant-based cheese if it were soft and gooey when melted.

“When you think about taste, flavour is one aspect, but how it’s consumed in the mouth, the melting properties, the mouthfeel, the oil release — that all affects the flavour,” says Morgan.

People expect alternativ­es to perform the same as regular cheese, Morgan adds. “So the melt plays a huge part in how the product is perceived in terms of taste, as well as how it performs in your taco or in your quesadilla or on your pizza, and grilled cheese sandwich, et cetera.”

Kohloff adds: “And there’s a real nostalgia factor at play here as well. So, when you’re a kid and you eat that grilled cheese sandwich, it’s really comforting and that authentic experience of a real melt is important to consumers.”

ALL-IMPORTANT MOUTHFEEL

Since cheese has been with us for millennia, it’s safe to assume that most people find it one of the culinary pleasures that makes life worthwhile. Melted cheese is on the table in many of the world’s kitchens. But why does the pull of the akkawi cheese in knafeh, curds in poutine or Oaxaca cheese in quesadilla­s make people’s hearts pitter-patter? There seems to be a scientific reason why people prefer flowing cheese over firm cubes, and it comes down to mouthfeel.

Questions about the perception of taste spurred University of Copenhagen physicist Ole G. Mouritsen and chef Klavs Styrbaek, co-owner of Styrbaeks restaurant in Odense, Denmark, to explore how texture fits in. We tend to overlook how foods’ physical qualities influence our choices, they write in Mouthfeel (2017). “Even though this often happens quite subconscio­usly, it turns out that our liking a foodstuff or rejecting it is often more dependent on how it feels in our mouth, rather than on how it tastes or smells.”

Studies suggest that mouthfeel affects not only our desire to eat certain foods but also how much of them we consume. According to Scishow,

melted cheese tastes so good partly because people tend to choose foods that are easy to eat. With soft, melty cheese, you get maximum reward for minimal effort.

The appeal of the melt could also be related to fat, the most calorie-rich macronutri­ent. The mouthfeel of fat-containing foods, especially those that change state (something cheese has in common with chocolate) signals that they are higher in calories.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE FONDUE POT

All the sensory pleasure, versatilit­y and nutrition that comes with cheese has a downside: it may be as harmful to the environmen­t as some kinds of meat. According to the BBC’S climate change calculator, if you were to eat two crackers’ worth (30 grams) three to five times a week, your annual cheese consumptio­n would be comparable to driving a car 827 kilometres or heating a home for 31 days.

In their 2022 thought experiment, Dinner on Mars, food scientists Lenore Newman and Evan Fraser explore what it would take to feed a settlement in deep space. Dairy cows are unlikely to make the trip to the Red Planet, they write. The energy required is among the reasons why. “A dairy cow eats 25 kilograms of feed a day and drinks between 100 and 200 litres of water. On Earth, feeding these creatures represents about 70 per cent of the operating cost of most dairies.” So, how would the hypothetic­al inhabitant­s of their Martian settlement of Basetown get cheese, a cornerston­e of many of the world’s cuisines?

Fraser and Newman believe that future cheesemake­rs will use proteins synthesize­d by yeast and bacteria, not those found in cow’s milk — and not just on Mars. Cellular agricultur­e could be the answer to making cheese in space and easing the environmen­tal strain of dairy production on Earth.

Food companies already use cellular agricultur­e to make labgrown meat, from chicken nuggets to woolly mammoth meatballs. Another category, precision fermentati­on, uses microbes such as bacteria, fungi or yeast to convert sugars into animal protein. Essentiall­y, scientists turn microbes into mini-factories to produce specific ingredient­s.

In much the same way, Fraser predicts advances in fermentati­on-based processes to create various proteins in the next 10 years. “Those will, gradually at first and then, I think, with increasing speed, start appearing on our grocery store shelves. And there will be a transition away from traditiona­l livestock towards those. And it won’t be 100 per cent, but there will be a whole lot of stuff we currently think of as coming from an animal today,” he said in a 2022 interview with the National Post. “Chicken nuggets being an obvious example. Ice cream being another one — cheap cheese, you know, blocks of orange cheddar, being a third and the filling in a frozen burrito. Those will become less dependent on animals and more dependent on fermentati­on processes for their ingredient­s.”

WHEN YOU’RE A KID AND YOU EAT THAT GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH, IT’S REALLY COMFORTING AND THAT AUTHENTIC EXPERIENCE OF A REAL MELT IS IMPORTANT TO CONSUMERS.

Christin Kohloff, vice-president, research, Developmen­t and applicatio­ns, Kerry

SWAPPING LIVESTOCK FOR MICROBES

Startups such as Change Foods and New Culture have swapped livestock for microbes to produce dairy proteins, fats and flavours, enabling them to make cheeses they claim “stretch, melt and taste like the real deal.” In 2024, James Beard Award-winning chef Nancy Silverton will become the first in the world to serve New Culture’s animal-free, dairy mozzarella at her Los Angeles restaurant, Pizzeria Mozza.

Precision fermentati­on offers advantages regarding animal welfare and sustainabi­lity, but regulatory and scalabilit­y challenges exist — and it’s just one area of innovation, says Tobin. Food scientists are also working on making available plant proteins more functional. “Everyone wants minimum processing but maximum end result. So how do you bridge that gap, and how do you go about it and take those learnings?”

In terms of taste, there are a number of companies breeding fruits and vegetables to generate some of the aroma and flavour compounds found in cheese. This is one way plant-based alternativ­es may start to get the flavours available in dairy cheeses, from caramelly aged Goudas to peppery blue cheeses, adds Tobin.

Some of the startups Kerry works with are using artificial intelligen­ce to discover novel plant proteins that replicate dairy, but that is still in developmen­t. Along with precision fermentati­on, “it may be a combinatio­n of all of these that will bring plant-based cheeses on to the next level,” says Tobin.

TAPPING INTO TRADITION

Daiya is banking on ancient microbial fermentati­on as a “major category breakthrou­gh.” Andre Kroecher and Greg Blake kick-started the plant-based cheese movement in North America when they founded Daiya in 2008.

The cheese launching this winter — with a new look and ingredient­s, including the trademarke­d Daiya Oat Cream blend — is the ninth generation in the company’s 15-year history. The tenth and eleventh are already in progress, says CEO Michael Watt.

In March 2023, the company announced a multimilli­on-dollar investment in fermentati­on technology that it says has enabled it to create a dairy-free cheese that is “tastier, meltier and stretchier” than any of its competitor­s.

“We believe that the world needs less animal protein and more plantbased protein, so we’re not mimicking animal proteins. We’re not geneticall­y modifying techniques and ingredient­s through precision fermentati­on,” says Watt. “For consumers, it’s hard to understand that or contemplat­e and then feel attracted to actually consuming something that’s animal-free but still carries the dairy allergens. You start wondering, ‘How is that, and what modificati­ons are being made?’ So, I think the consumer is more apt to want what Daiya is doing, which is an age-old method of natural plant ingredient­s following a process methodolog­y that the dairy industry has been using for over a century. We’re just replacing it with great, high-quality plants.”

Since Jamie Siu, director of advanced research and technology at Daiya, started working in plantbased cheese 11 years ago, he’s seen the quality and quantity of products increase. Like Tobin, he appreciate­s being able to blend science and food. “I’m a huge foodie, of course. I love cooking; I love eating.” He’s also among the roughly 65 per cent of people who have difficulty digesting dairy.

“I don’t consume dairy; I’m lactose intolerant and I love cheese. So, I had that personal connection there, trying to make better plantbased cheese products so, selfishly, I can have better options,” says Siu, laughing. “Cheese is one of those things that is so nostalgic. You think about amazing foods: wine and chocolate and cheese and coffee, for example. They’re all fermented and there’s just so much potential, I think, for making plantbased cheeses better. I know we’re not there yet as a category, but I really do believe that we’re getting there.”

In the late 2010s, Siu took a break from Daiya to do his master’s at Wageningen University & Research in the Netherland­s, where he specialize­d in fermenting plant proteins. He experiment­ed with hundreds of strains of lactic acid bacteria to reduce the beany, grassy, and hay-like off-notes of plant proteins, and generate the aromatic compounds in cheese.

He was interested in the work chefs around the world were doing in fermentati­on, including at René Redzepi’s groundbrea­king restaurant Noma in Copenhagen, and wanted to learn more about how centuries-old techniques could create such complex and unique aromas and flavours.

With dairy cheese manufactur­ing, you start with milk. And for the most part, says Siu, “Milk is milk.” The cows’ diet affects the compositio­n, but the primary elements of cheesemaki­ng are the same: milk fat, protein, whey and trace minerals. With plant-based cheese, the milk could be in many different forms, from almond and oat to pea and soy. “It really opens up the complexity and the diversity, and how you even begin taking bacterial strains, which have been adapted to grow so well on milk for centuries, and put them into a new environmen­t with new nutrients, different microcompo­nents within this ‘milk.’ And what kind of resulting aromas and flavours do you get? Long story short, you definitely do not get the same flavours and aromas as you do when you ferment dairy milk,” says Siu.

And here lies the challenge: “With that complexity and all of those ingredient­s that could be used to make plant-based milk and the different fat sources that could also be used, whether it be coconut fat or other plant-based oils. And then, just the hundreds of thousands of strains that are available. How do you begin to screen them down or create and select the right combinatio­n to start generating more of those authentic dairy aromas?”

Daiya’s ninth-generation product browns and bubbles on top of its pizzas. The shreds are creamier, meltier and stretchier. It looks the part, says Siu, which was the first hurdle. Fermentati­on offers opportunit­ies to introduce more flavour complexity into plant-based cheeses.

“This traditiona­l fermentati­on product ... is significan­tly better than any plant-based cheese on the market, including ourselves,” says Watt. “And it really starts to close the gap in a meaningful way to dairy cheese on key measures: taste, texture, meltabilit­y, et cetera. So we’re super excited. It also brings some elevated levels of nutrition with one full gram of protein per serving, which is roughly a third of what a dairy serving would be.”

For future iterations, taste and texture remain top priorities, says Watt, as well as finding ways to improve nutrition and make the ingredient­s recognizab­le to consumers — “and the fewer, the better.”

THE HAT TRICK: HIGH-PROTEIN, MELTY & STRETCHY

For more than three years, food science PHD student Stacie Dobson has been working with University of Guelph professor and Canada Research Chair Alejandro Marangoni on creating a high-protein, melty, stretchy plant-based cheese unlike any on the market.

Since none of the commercial options match the functional­ity and nutrition of dairy, they set out to make one. As Dobson and Marangoni describe in a paper published in the journal Current Research in Food Science, they achieved what they were after by combining waxy starch, plant-protein isolate and coconut oil.

“The cheese we created, we actually can do it all. One of the benefits is that we have a protein content equal to a processed cheese. So, around three grams of protein per serving in our formulatio­ns, and we can adapt to that. Where we set ourselves apart is that we have the protein, we have the melt, and we have the stretch in this product that we’ve created that fills in that gap.”

For convenienc­e foods such as pizza, the industry may not be concerned about nutrition — “they’re just looking for that melt.” But for everyday consumers, nutritiona­l value matters. Their high-protein plant-based analogs reached melt and stretch two to three times greater than commercial alternativ­es and are “significan­tly more similar” to dairy cheeses. To measure it, they developed an in-house stretch test.

One of the standard tests cheese manufactur­ers use to measure melt is the fork test, where you spear a sample and see how high you can stretch it before it breaks, Dobson explains. “From a scientific perspectiv­e, it’s very arbitrary, because how much sample are you picking up on your fork? How much force am I using to pull it up? How fast am I moving it?”

The lab group developed a method using a rheometer (an instrument used to measure a substance’s torque and viscosity) to test it quantitati­vely. “So, it’s important to set a standard of methods, and we’ve also done testing where we put it in a grilled cheese, or we put it on a pizza, and we see how well it performs in a pizza oven or different platforms. These are all tests that we do to try to make sure that the product we’re developing is behaving the way that we want.”

Another obstacle the team tackled was the recovery of plantbased cheese once it melts and cools. A common complaint of plant-based cheeses, such as Han’s experience at Hancook Cheese Dakgalbi, is that it hardens too quickly after melting.

The researcher­s have tested combinatio­ns of various plant proteins, such as chickpea, lentil and pea. They know how individual ingredient­s react to heating and might include a blend of different starches or hydrocollo­ids to create a matrix similar to dairy casein. Understand­ing the components and how they interact has helped them make a plant-based product more like dairy.

Dobson and Marangoni are still improving their plant-based cheese, emphasizin­g melt and stretch, and have filed a patent on their technology. Daiya is an industrial partner (Daiya’s new product rollout is not part of their partnershi­p), and they have made connection­s worldwide, including in Europe and Israel, in hopes of taking their product further afield.

Their cheesemaki­ng process is straightfo­rward, Dobson says. Depending on the batch size, the cheese is ready to test in one to five days. They can tailor the process to make a product as hard as Parmesan or sliceable as a mild cheddar using easily accessible wholesale ingredient­s. But the work is far from over.

“As much as we made a product, it’s always interestin­g to see what happens when we incorporat­e different types of fat into the system. A lot of these use coconut oil, which definitely has that saturated fat mouthfeel of milk fat. But what if we do a combinatio­n and can decrease the saturated fat content? Or what if we use different complexati­ons to make different directions of the fat that provide different structurin­g? And then researchin­g how we can move from, let’s say, using an isolate, which is more environmen­tally taxing, to using a concentrat­e and understand­ing the different interactio­ns of the starch. So there’s always more to learn.”

Meltabilit­y is a Holy Grail for plant-based cheesemake­rs. Even in the field’s relative nascency, the innovative work of Dobson, Marangoni and other food scientists gives cheese lovers a reason for optimism. Dairy-like stretch and pull are within reach, opening up more options for every eater.

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Cheese dakgalbi
Dak means chicken in Korean, and galbi means ribs, but this molten, cheese-covered dish is conspicuou­sly rib-free. “Back in the day, pork ribs (dwaeji galbi) were too expensive for everyday grilling, so a restaurant cook created a similarly flavoured dish with chicken instead and called it dakgalbi,” according to Hyosun Ro, creator of the Korean Bapsang blog. The original, cheese-free version of the dish originated in Chuncheon in the South Korean province of Gangwon-do in the 1960s and is made by stir-frying gochujang-marinated chicken, vegetables and rice cakes. More recently, cooks started topping it with mild, melty mozzarella to mellow the red chili heat.
1 Cheese dakgalbi Dak means chicken in Korean, and galbi means ribs, but this molten, cheese-covered dish is conspicuou­sly rib-free. “Back in the day, pork ribs (dwaeji galbi) were too expensive for everyday grilling, so a restaurant cook created a similarly flavoured dish with chicken instead and called it dakgalbi,” according to Hyosun Ro, creator of the Korean Bapsang blog. The original, cheese-free version of the dish originated in Chuncheon in the South Korean province of Gangwon-do in the 1960s and is made by stir-frying gochujang-marinated chicken, vegetables and rice cakes. More recently, cooks started topping it with mild, melty mozzarella to mellow the red chili heat.
 ?? ?? 3 Fondue
As far as cheesy Swiss dishes go, it was a toss-up between fondue and raclette. So, I opted for the one that has the most epic history. According to the BBC, the emulsified cheese sauce dates back to Homer’s Iliad, written around 800 to 725 BCE. Then, it was a mixture of goat’s cheese, wine and flour. Some believe peasants in the Swiss Alps created fondue as it stands today — cheese (such as Gruyère or Emmental) melted in white wine — to make stale bread more palatable during the winter. Whatever its origins, fondue became Switzerlan­d’s most famous culinary export in 1930 when a cartel, the Swiss Cheese Union, named it the country’s national dish.
3 Fondue As far as cheesy Swiss dishes go, it was a toss-up between fondue and raclette. So, I opted for the one that has the most epic history. According to the BBC, the emulsified cheese sauce dates back to Homer’s Iliad, written around 800 to 725 BCE. Then, it was a mixture of goat’s cheese, wine and flour. Some believe peasants in the Swiss Alps created fondue as it stands today — cheese (such as Gruyère or Emmental) melted in white wine — to make stale bread more palatable during the winter. Whatever its origins, fondue became Switzerlan­d’s most famous culinary export in 1930 when a cartel, the Swiss Cheese Union, named it the country’s national dish.
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Chicken cheese katsu
Fans of the Japanese drama Midnight Diner might remember this comfort food from Season 2, where it’s referred to as “fried chicken breast with cheese.” In Japan, chicken cheese katsu is a firm favourite of kids and adults alike, according to Namiko “Nami” Hirasawa Chen of Just One Cookbook. A version of breaded cutlet (katsu), it’s made by stuffing butterflie­d chicken with cheese, dredging in flour, dipping in beaten eggs, coating in panko and deep-frying. Use “process cheese” made with milk from Hokkaido if you can find it. If not, Chen suggests fontina, Gruyère, mozzarella, provolone or another melting cheese.
2 Chicken cheese katsu Fans of the Japanese drama Midnight Diner might remember this comfort food from Season 2, where it’s referred to as “fried chicken breast with cheese.” In Japan, chicken cheese katsu is a firm favourite of kids and adults alike, according to Namiko “Nami” Hirasawa Chen of Just One Cookbook. A version of breaded cutlet (katsu), it’s made by stuffing butterflie­d chicken with cheese, dredging in flour, dipping in beaten eggs, coating in panko and deep-frying. Use “process cheese” made with milk from Hokkaido if you can find it. If not, Chen suggests fontina, Gruyère, mozzarella, provolone or another melting cheese.
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 ?? ?? 4 Khachapuri “No feast would seem proper without the marvellous cheese bread khachapuri,” writes author and food scholar Darra Goldstein in The Georgian Feast (2018). The signature stuffed bread of the Caucasus nation comes in various forms — boat-shaped, rectangula­r and round — using different doughs and fillings, either enclosed or openfaced. Her favourite, adzharuli khachapuri, is boat-shaped and hails from Batumi on the Black Sea coast. In Georgia, cooks often fill the breads with fresh imeruli (Imeretian) or pasta filata (stretched curd) sulguni cheese, beaten eggs and butter. Since Georgian cheeses can be hard to come by elsewhere, Goldstein calls for Muenster and Havarti. In Melt, Stretch, & Sizzle (2018), cheese specialist Tia Keenan approximat­es the briny pungency of sulguni with a mixture of mozzarella, feta and chèvre.
4 Khachapuri “No feast would seem proper without the marvellous cheese bread khachapuri,” writes author and food scholar Darra Goldstein in The Georgian Feast (2018). The signature stuffed bread of the Caucasus nation comes in various forms — boat-shaped, rectangula­r and round — using different doughs and fillings, either enclosed or openfaced. Her favourite, adzharuli khachapuri, is boat-shaped and hails from Batumi on the Black Sea coast. In Georgia, cooks often fill the breads with fresh imeruli (Imeretian) or pasta filata (stretched curd) sulguni cheese, beaten eggs and butter. Since Georgian cheeses can be hard to come by elsewhere, Goldstein calls for Muenster and Havarti. In Melt, Stretch, & Sizzle (2018), cheese specialist Tia Keenan approximat­es the briny pungency of sulguni with a mixture of mozzarella, feta and chèvre.
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French onion soup
French onion soup, or as the French call it, soupe à l’oignon, has roots in ancient Rome. But the version we know today — caramelize­d onions simmered in broth, topped with a slice of rustic bread and grated Comté cheese before being passed under the broiler to brown and bubble — dates back to the mid-19th century in “the stomach of Paris,” Les Halles. The fresh food market was once the city’s food distributi­on hub; onion soup was breakfast to some and a hangover cure for others. As pastry chef and author David Lebovitz writes in My Paris Kitchen (2014), “There is an indescriba­ble lure to French onion soup for visitors to Paris. Perhaps they are nostalgic for the days when it was served at 4 a.m. to nocturnal revellers who rubbed elbows with the bloodstain­ed, aproned butchers from Les Halles, the central food market that stood in the centre of Paris for centuries.”
5 French onion soup French onion soup, or as the French call it, soupe à l’oignon, has roots in ancient Rome. But the version we know today — caramelize­d onions simmered in broth, topped with a slice of rustic bread and grated Comté cheese before being passed under the broiler to brown and bubble — dates back to the mid-19th century in “the stomach of Paris,” Les Halles. The fresh food market was once the city’s food distributi­on hub; onion soup was breakfast to some and a hangover cure for others. As pastry chef and author David Lebovitz writes in My Paris Kitchen (2014), “There is an indescriba­ble lure to French onion soup for visitors to Paris. Perhaps they are nostalgic for the days when it was served at 4 a.m. to nocturnal revellers who rubbed elbows with the bloodstain­ed, aproned butchers from Les Halles, the central food market that stood in the centre of Paris for centuries.”
 ?? ?? 6 Poutine
The history of poutine may be hazy, but one thing is for sure: the cheddar cheese curds better be fresh. “I always say, the taste is in the squeak,” Elmeda Weber, president of Kitchen Kuttings in Elmira, Ont., said in a 2016 interview with the National Post. Quebec is the largest dairy-producing province in Canada, and Quebecers love French fries. As Julian Armstrong writes in The Oxford Companion to Cheese (2016), curds melting into fries in a casse-croûte takeout container was “the inevitable meeting.” Whether Café Idéal (later renamed Le Lutin Qui Rit) in Warwick or Le Roy Jucep in Drummondvi­lle was the first to take the gooiness to new heights by adding gravy in the 1950s is up for debate. Still, only one has a Canadian Intellectu­al Property Office plaque to help their cause. Daniel Leblanc, former owner of Le Roy Jucep, trademarke­d poutine in 1997.
6 Poutine The history of poutine may be hazy, but one thing is for sure: the cheddar cheese curds better be fresh. “I always say, the taste is in the squeak,” Elmeda Weber, president of Kitchen Kuttings in Elmira, Ont., said in a 2016 interview with the National Post. Quebec is the largest dairy-producing province in Canada, and Quebecers love French fries. As Julian Armstrong writes in The Oxford Companion to Cheese (2016), curds melting into fries in a casse-croûte takeout container was “the inevitable meeting.” Whether Café Idéal (later renamed Le Lutin Qui Rit) in Warwick or Le Roy Jucep in Drummondvi­lle was the first to take the gooiness to new heights by adding gravy in the 1950s is up for debate. Still, only one has a Canadian Intellectu­al Property Office plaque to help their cause. Daniel Leblanc, former owner of Le Roy Jucep, trademarke­d poutine in 1997.
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ISTOCK / GETTY IMAGES
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Supplì al telefono
The melt is in the name of this Roman dish, which I learned about from Leah Koenig’s Portico: Cooking and Feasting in Rome’s Jewish Kitchen (2023). The twist and stretch of supplì al telefono (mozzarella-stuffed risotto fritters) resembles an old-fashioned coiled telephone cord. “The outsides are crisp and crunchy, the risotto inside is creamy, and the mozzarella is molten, with the perfect amount of satisfying ‘cheese pull,’” Koenig writes. Supplì is one of Rome’s favourite street foods, and the city’s dairy-centric kosher restaurant­s serve some of the best. Enjoy them on their own or dipped in warm tomato sauce.
8 Supplì al telefono The melt is in the name of this Roman dish, which I learned about from Leah Koenig’s Portico: Cooking and Feasting in Rome’s Jewish Kitchen (2023). The twist and stretch of supplì al telefono (mozzarella-stuffed risotto fritters) resembles an old-fashioned coiled telephone cord. “The outsides are crisp and crunchy, the risotto inside is creamy, and the mozzarella is molten, with the perfect amount of satisfying ‘cheese pull,’” Koenig writes. Supplì is one of Rome’s favourite street foods, and the city’s dairy-centric kosher restaurant­s serve some of the best. Enjoy them on their own or dipped in warm tomato sauce.
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Welsh rarebit
Welsh rarebit takes cheese on toast to the next level. Start with a roux (a mixture of flour and fat, cooked until it thickens), add beer, stir in the cheese, season with mustard powder and Worcesters­hire sauce and pour over toasted bread before broiling until bubbling and golden. While Cheddar is often the cheese of choice, the late English food writer Jane Grigson suggests Lancashire in English Food (1974). In her pursuit of the perfect rarebit, The Guardian food columnist Felicity Cloake agrees: “It has just enough bite to dominate the dish, without smothering every other ingredient in the process.” Though it never contained the long-eared mammal, Welsh rabbit is its rightful name. Sixty years after its first documented mention in 1725, rabbit had morphed into rarebit — a word with no other meaning. According to Grigson, The Independen­t reports, “the Welsh considered a cheesy toasty thing as great a treat as a fine, fat rabbit.”
10 Welsh rarebit Welsh rarebit takes cheese on toast to the next level. Start with a roux (a mixture of flour and fat, cooked until it thickens), add beer, stir in the cheese, season with mustard powder and Worcesters­hire sauce and pour over toasted bread before broiling until bubbling and golden. While Cheddar is often the cheese of choice, the late English food writer Jane Grigson suggests Lancashire in English Food (1974). In her pursuit of the perfect rarebit, The Guardian food columnist Felicity Cloake agrees: “It has just enough bite to dominate the dish, without smothering every other ingredient in the process.” Though it never contained the long-eared mammal, Welsh rabbit is its rightful name. Sixty years after its first documented mention in 1725, rabbit had morphed into rarebit — a word with no other meaning. According to Grigson, The Independen­t reports, “the Welsh considered a cheesy toasty thing as great a treat as a fine, fat rabbit.”
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Queso fundido “Queso fundido is not a cheese dip. Queso fundido is not a cheese sauce. Queso fundido is the real deal. It is real cheese. Tons of it,” writes Pati Jinich, chef, author and James Beard Award-winning host of Pati’s Mexican Table. Well-loved all over Mexico, the specifics of queso fundido vary by region. In the north, where historians believe the dish originated as a campfire meal, cooks often make it with queso Chihuahua (a.k.a. queso menonita), a culinary contributi­on from the Mennonite community that emigrated from Canada in the 1920s. In Jinich’s hometown of Mexico City, the most popular fixings are poblano rajas, chorizo or mushrooms. But queso fundido is a chooseyour-own-adventure-style dish. Gather your favourite toppings, spoon the melty cheese into a tortilla and dig in.
7 Queso fundido “Queso fundido is not a cheese dip. Queso fundido is not a cheese sauce. Queso fundido is the real deal. It is real cheese. Tons of it,” writes Pati Jinich, chef, author and James Beard Award-winning host of Pati’s Mexican Table. Well-loved all over Mexico, the specifics of queso fundido vary by region. In the north, where historians believe the dish originated as a campfire meal, cooks often make it with queso Chihuahua (a.k.a. queso menonita), a culinary contributi­on from the Mennonite community that emigrated from Canada in the 1920s. In Jinich’s hometown of Mexico City, the most popular fixings are poblano rajas, chorizo or mushrooms. But queso fundido is a chooseyour-own-adventure-style dish. Gather your favourite toppings, spoon the melty cheese into a tortilla and dig in.
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Smažený sýr
Though Edam is most common, hermelín will always be the star of smažený sýr — Czech fried cheese. Czechoslov­ak cheesemake­rs created the soft bloomy-rind cheese in the mid-20th century as an imitation Camembert, and it’s since become a staple. It’s popular pickled for nakládaný hermelín, but it’s also breaded and fried — served as-is, waiting to be tucked into like a steak or sandwiched in a burger bun spread with tartar sauce. I’ve never seen hermelín in Canada, so you could do as many Czechs do and use Edam (sold as eidam in Czechia) or, as Kristýna Koutná of the blog Czech Cookbook recommends, Monterey Jack.
9 Smažený sýr Though Edam is most common, hermelín will always be the star of smažený sýr — Czech fried cheese. Czechoslov­ak cheesemake­rs created the soft bloomy-rind cheese in the mid-20th century as an imitation Camembert, and it’s since become a staple. It’s popular pickled for nakládaný hermelín, but it’s also breaded and fried — served as-is, waiting to be tucked into like a steak or sandwiched in a burger bun spread with tartar sauce. I’ve never seen hermelín in Canada, so you could do as many Czechs do and use Edam (sold as eidam in Czechia) or, as Kristýna Koutná of the blog Czech Cookbook recommends, Monterey Jack.

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